The creature's eyne got used like to the moonlight, and presently he looked up in Tom's face as bold as ever was; "Tom," says he, "thou'rt a good lad!" as cool as thou can think, says he, "Tom, thou'rt a good lad!" and his voice was soft and high and piping like a little bird twittering.
Tom touched his hat, and began to think what he ought to say. "Houts!" says the thing again, "thou needn't
be feared o' me; thou'st done me a better turn than thou knowst, my lad, and I'll do as much for thee." Tom couldn't speak yet, but he thought, "Lord! for sure 'tis a bogle!"
"No!" says he as quick as quick, "I am no bogle, but ye'd best not ask me what I be; anyways I be a good friend o' thine." Tom's very knee-bones struck, for certainly an ordinary body couldn't have known what he'd been thinking to himself, but he looked so kind like, and spoke so fair, that he made bold to get out, a bit quavery like—
